Unexpected Alliance
by ms-citizenshiptest
Summary: A situation arises when Mossad Officers Ziva David and Malchi Ben-Gidon follow a rouge ex-Mossad operative who plans to sell Israeli intelligence to the highest bidder on the black market in Washington D.C. With a dead Petty Officer in the way, they are forced to align with NCIS in order to bring Namir Eschel to justice. Many Tiva moments to come.
1. Chapter 1

It had been months.

Ziva and her partner had been attempting to locate Namir Eschel since they learned of the assignment. Eschel was not only a former Mossad operative, but also one of Ziva's partners while she was just beginning her career with the Israeli intelligence agency. Not long after they had established a strong professional relationship, Officer Eschel reportedly went off the grid and continued to continue with plans of his own personal benefit. Mossad quickly learned of his rouge intentions to sell Israeli intelligence to the highest bidder and decided going after him was the best hand to play. Naturally, Ziva volunteered for the assignment after learning of the misfortune – he was her partner and she felt responsible for not seeing the truth sooner. After all, she saw him day in and day out and sat across from him every day. She depended on him to watch her back and keep her safe. The success of his apprehension was now at her hands.

She and Officer Ben-Gidon had been on the road for so long that they had forgotten what day of the week it was. The world continued to go on around them while they moved from one city to another, crossing borders across the globe upon hitting a dead end in their endeavors along the way. For someone as stoic as herself, the female operative was finally showing signs of frustration. An assignment had never proven to be so faulted for someone like Ziva David, and the pressure was beginning to weigh on her. All that stood between her and a hot shower now was just a train ride. Her arm pulled her bag aggressively over her shoulder as she made her way inside with a flash of her boarding pass to the attendants. They had made it into New York from abroad and were now heading into D.C. to follow the lead of her contacts.

Malachi, as she had chosen to refer to him since the start of their partnership, held the record for lasting as long as he had at her side. It was commendable given his partner's track record. The young, but very capable, officer was known for her preference of working alone – danger considered or not. He learned how to fall in line with Ziva's footing quickly, but he knew well enough that she – just like anyone – had her off days. The sharp end of the spear was still unpredictable despite the success rate she raked in for the Mossad. Malachi's tired eyes watched Ziva shove her duffle bag overhead before taking the window seat at the end of their aisle. She never did give him an option.

A huff escaped from her lips as she settled into the seat she would be occupying for the majority of the flight. "Relax," Malachi mumbled without a second thought as he sat back into the leather.

Ziva ran her fingers over her bruised knuckles of the other hand before looking into his direction. "We have been at this too long," she let out after they took in each other's tired states. "He is always one step ahead of us. If I had known…"

"But you didn't," Malachi responded. "That doesn't make it your fault, Ziva." Though his words attempted to reassure her, they ultimately accomplished very little. The younger Israeli nodded at him, taking his words in passively, before turning her eyes to the city they were leaving behind. Another city, another failure in her book. Despite their failed operation attempts, the beautifully lit skyscrapers reminded her of her sister's love for the view. Her mind graciously welcomed the locked away memories when the wheels of the plane rolled off the cement and steadily elevated them toward the clouds.

_They had reached the wall, each raising a hand to it and closing their eyes. Their long eyelashes hid them from the dusty wind as they whispered prayers in remembrance on the anniversary of their mother's death. Once they were both ready, the two young women walked backwards away from what was left in preservation as Judaism saw it improper to turn their backs. "Ani ohevet otach," Tali whispered. Feeling welled up in Ziva's chest and she embraced her younger sister. "Please come back to me." Her chin dug into her shoulder and her words into her heart. _

"_I will be safe," she promised. The loving exchange ended up being their last and upon hearing of Tali's passing Ziva was sure she would never feel again._

"Do you ever think about the future?" It brought her out of her painful flashback and she brought up her elbow to lean against the curtained window to her right, her head full of wild curls landing to rest against the palm of her hand as she refocused.

Her lips dried, cracking in unique pattern due to the cold air pressure in the cabin, as she pretended to contemplate the question. It was not something she considered often, if at all. Taking into account her childhood and upbringing in the assassin world, it was never something she cared to ponder over. "No." Ziva was always a challenge, a hard cookie to crack when you wanted to get any type of personal information out of her for an illegitimate purpose, or even for a legitimate one for that matter.

Malachi turned into her, curious. Their partnership was built on many things, though bearing their souls to each other was not one of them. There was nothing deep between them other than a sense of trust, comradery, and the occasional fall to temptation. It was clear that it made Ziva uncomfortable, but it was a long flight and he always itched for the opportunity to figure out what went on in the 20-something officer's mind. "You do not consider the chances?"

"I do not expect to live long. Our job – it is a dangerous one," she told him honestly with a shrug of the shoulder. It came all too easy for her, but if he knew what she had lived through and with he could understand. Her cool expression remained, clearly indicating to him that she did not care to elaborate.

He rolled his eyes then, pushing back into the cushion of his seat. "You are cynical. I think you would look great in my – " Ziva invaded his face, moving forcibly closer to him and pushed a pointed finger into his chest. The woman was always one for making a dramatic point.

"Finish that sentence and I will shoot you," the statement came through clear with the company of a clenched jaw. Ziva was not one to make empty threats and she gave up on their potential love affair long ago. The careless nights were lost and forgotten, for one of them at least.

"Ziva, always full of fire." He grabbed her wrist as a reflex but she did not ease up. He convinced himself it was best to surrender both his grasp and the topic before she pulled something he'd regret. His hands rose up in clear sign of retreat for which he received a scoff from her. Ziva's remained on him warningly though, quite telling of potential intentions if he proceeded forward. "That is why you have trouble keeping a partner, yes?"

Ziva's face remained close to his, only a few centimeters separating them from engaging in something painful, passionate, or both. "It is the ones who get too close that always end up dead," she reminded in a whisper before withdrawing from him. He had pushed enough and as sleep deprived as she was, she was in no mood to play his game. Her dicey persona, however, was always appealing and all her partners – Malachi included – couldn't help but play their chances. He adjusted his dress shirt in return to her icy words. They had been partners long enough for him to not react to her irrational slips.

"You always make being with you sound so appealing," his voice chimed through sarcastically before Ziva turned onto her side to get some much-needed rest. She accepted the comfort her soft waves allowed and drifted into a light sleep. His fingers played with a few of her curls absentmindedly for a few minutes before he took it upon himself to brush up on their most recently collected intel; he wanted to be prepared for when they got to Washington D.C. – not only for re-establishing surveillance on Eschel, but also for the teleconference with the Deputy Director.

* * *

><p>The dream team was going strong. Although they were always an agent short, the group of men didn't seem to let that stand in their way. They often forgot about their shortcomings when their investigative skills produced results that the NCIS director was commended for again and again. Those ceremonies almost made Jenny Shepard forget that Gibbs' team had yet to bring in another member on their operations. She'd push one day, lay off the next. It was a vicious cycle that the two younger agents – DiNozzo and McGee – attempted to stay clear of at all times. No one liked when the work parents fought.<p>

Tony, who had been under Gibbs' wing for several wings now, made his way out of the Director's office by choice of the quick route of the staircase. He had just gotten briefed on a small lead the agency had received about Israeli intelligence going onto the black market and discussed possible ways to proceed come the weekend. Their analysts figured that the sale would be taking place then; they had been working on setting up a trustworthy profile for weeks now and all that was left to do was buy when they were the highest bidder. It seemed easy enough and NCIS took on the task without discussion with Mossad. It would made great leverage the next time the United States needed something from their ally.

Tony made use of his late night in the office to snoop around his probationary partner's desk. There was always something interesting to find there, and with no one around it was the perfect time to seize the opportunity. Tony's fingers tingled with excitement and he decided he was all in. There was nothing more intriguing than a few unfinished reports and other paperwork laying around on the surface. He threw that into McGee's desk chair and continued on his search, opening and sifting through drawers as he went. His rummaged chaos paid off when his hand settled around a pair of theatre tickets and the probie's beloved iPod. "Hey!"

The Italian turned around with a wide grin, his fingers still tightly clasped around the recently discovered treasure. "Why, McGee...I didn't know you were a ballet fan." He waved the expensive pieces of paper around while the rightful owner attempted to fetch them. "Have you been working on your pirouettes, Probie? Come on, let's see those pointed toes."

"Don't you have anything better to do on a Friday night?"

Tony fiddled with the black iPod before responding, "Better than finding out you're a closeted ballet fanatic? No, I wouldn't miss your performance for the world," his eyebrows rose teasingly and McGee rolled his eyes before reorganizing his desk. It was always a pet peeve of his to leave a messy desk for the weekend. "But I do have 'Goodfellas' and a pizza waiting for me at home," Tony shared as he pulled a jacket over his collared shirt.

"So get," Gibbs pushed as he made his way into the bullpen for the remainder of his coffee. It wasn't unusual to see the boss man so late in the evening still clocked in, but Tony was hoping to stay clear of any potential head slaps. He was beginning to consider the possible brain damage the strikes could cause in the near future. That would explain so much.

The Italian straightened up beside his partner, clearing his throat in signal. McGee shifted on his feet as a result but mustered enough strength to speak up to their commanding officer. "Boss, we were – uh – Tony and I were thinking it's time we fill that desk," the man's silence pushed him to continue. "Director Shepard has already asked me to pass a number of pre-selected resumes onto you for review."

Gibbs took a satisfying gulp of his coffee. "You not capable of keeping up with your workload, McGee?"

"Of course, boss. But the Director asked that I – we – that you…" He let out a shaky breath, a clear line of sweat already formed on his brow.

Gibbs eyed the two of them carefully before giving the idea the benefit of a doubt. "Alright – I trust you both can handle it. No requests for headshots," he reminded the Italian sternly. His loyal St. Bernard always had a way of getting away with his assignments. As if trained, Tony and McGee nodded simultaneously and proceeded toward the elevator in an orderly fashion. "Hey, DiNozzo!" His head shot up – those years at military school had really paid off, or traumatized him – either or.

"Yes, boss?" Tony paused in the doorframe. His hand caught the silver door aiming to close and awaited his fate from the silver fox.

Gibbs looked over his shoulder at him, his feature never faltering. "Stay out of McGee's desk, or I'll chop your fingers off next time."

The Italian gulped, taking another two steps into the enclosed space. "Have a good night, boss," he managed before the door cleared him from view and allowed him his weekly exit. Tony pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket to find a few missed calls and text messages from the girls he had seen that week. Exhaustion over took him on his way down and he decided a tomato topped pie and Robert De Niro would suit him just fine.

* * *

><p>The two agents were met with a surprise of rain dancing against the pavement when they made it into the lobby. It wasn't coming down too hard, so Tony decided he should make a run for it while the clouds weren't too upset with the city. It was the one day out of the many he had worked that he convinced himself that leaving his car at his apartment was a wise idea. He'd be able to get some exercise in, right? Wrong. The Italian didn't think to refrain a loud groan from escaping until he received a few scowls from the security desk. Tony gave a tight smile, almost apologetic, and zipped up his jacket in a pretentious assumption that it would save him from the brewing storm outdoors.<p>

"I can give you a ride," McGee offered. He wore an amused smile, but couldn't help and play the helpful friend role. It was who his family had raised him to be, and even after the hell that Tony happily put him through on a daily basis he felt bad for the guy. "Your hair's going to be all messed up," his voice broke into a small laugh when he couldn't help it. Tony's hair was one of his most prized possessions. It always got him the ladies, or so the Probie had hypothesized.

Tony ran his tongue over his teeth, giving his partner a dry laugh to show just how amused he was. "Get outta here before I Gibbs slap you," he threatened light heartedly.

"You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Tony reminded. "See you next week, Probie." The Italian waved to the pretty young ladies at the security desk before disappearing past the automatic doors that led to the exit of the Navy Yard. The drizzle quickly settled on the nape of his neck and he quickened his pace.

* * *

><p>Ziva led the way down a dark corridor to the small apartment they had rented for their operation in the city. If she gave Mossad any praise, it was for their ability to be discrete and thorough. She was also always pleased to find everything they needed waiting for them inside the small quarters – surveillance equipment, weapons, and as much comfort as their work allowed. After checking the apartment for unwanted visitors, the Israeli dropped her bags against the wall with a sigh of relief. It was small but tidy and she appreciated the fact that it allowed them to feel human on some level. They didn't have to be crazy assassins with an impossible cause at all hours of the night. Sometimes – rarely – they could take a step back and enjoy the fact that they were in a city that many dreamed to explore.<p>

"It is nice here," Ziva mumbled as she carefully approached the window. She, of course, meant their surroundings outside that her body begged to venture for itself. Her partner pretended not to see the small smile that warmed her features and nodded in agreement. He collapsed loudly onto the cushions of the couch, causing Ziva to turn swiftly and narrow her eyes at him. Malachi gave her a suggestive smile, one she shot down immediately with an insignificant roll of the eyes. "I do not know how you have lasted so long," Ziva commented while observing the people walking across the street.

"You used to appreciate my stamina." She could feel him grinning without having to look back at him. Her fingers danced against the windowsill lightly, deciding whether or not to ignore his illusive commentary. They were clearly referring to different things but she was not surprised by his bite anymore.

Ziva pushed herself away from the window and headed back to her things. She grasped one and threw the other over her shoulder before heading into one of the bedrooms. "I appreciated many things when I was naïve." She made it back into the living room after dropping her things on the claimed bed. "I will get dinner," Ziva announced. The dark clouds outside didn't intimidate her and she was rather excited for the change of weather. "You will check in with the Director, yes?"

"Your father will want to speak with you," she heard him tell her. His eyes stayed glued to his laptop and his fingers typed away to establish an Internet connection.

Ziva paused in the doorway to consider, but it did not render any success. "He will have to make do with what he gets." She shut the door, relieved that her plan of not speaking to Eli David had not yet faltered.

* * *

><p>She made it safely – and dryly – to a nearby take out place. Ziva didn't really care what it was. What mattered was that it was hot and smelled appetizing, though at this point of being cooped up with Malachi for months on end she didn't care what they consumed. Ziva waited idly by while the order was being prepared and was pleased to find they had packaged it well enough to protect it from the incoming rainfall. After trading in her order number for the entrees, she accepted the items with open arms and was on her way.<p>

The rain had begun coming down harder by then and she accepted its generosity. Ziva quickly found that the rain on the east coast was wild and unpredictable, much like her. She felt her hair lose volume, beginning to stick to her skin, and her clothes followed suit. It was slightly uncomfortable, but she continued on her way. The droplets ran a thin trail down her back sometime along the way and she arched her back in the middle of a step to push away the jitters. At the thought of huffing and puffing at the now ridiculous pressure of the rain, Ziva remembered how all she wanted when she finally got into the city was a shower.

Within a moment's notice, Ziva came to terms that she had fully underestimated the power of a little D.C. rain. She could barely see in front of her, but continued with just the same amount of caution as before – practically none. A few cars honked when she tried to cross the street and she scolded in what she assumed was their direction. Her lips parted to begin shouting something of the negative sort at the irresponsible drivers who had almost run her over when her chest pounded against a passerby's. They both winced and Ziva squinted in attempt to identify who she had collided with.

Her eyes found a taller man with light brown hair; though he was not nearly as soaked as she was, he was definitely more annoyed – if that were possible. The features on his face quickly softened when he saw her face. Its appealed outweighed the annoyance of how wet he was and the depth to which his shoulder now ached. Her skin was a perfect olive shade and her lips an intriguing light pink. "Didn't anyone teach you not to tackle strangers?" Tony tried to yell over the rain.

A small smirk played on her face, not expecting his unusual question. Soon she would find that he was known for the unusual ones in the bunch. "I have done worse," Ziva explained. Perhaps it was too loaded of a statement; the Israeli was not a lover of explaining herself. She shifted the bag in her hands to brush a few strands of hair out of her eyes but the mystery man beat her to it. His fingers gently settled within her thick strands to brush them away and reveal her heated brown eyes.

Too captivated by his hazel eyes, Ziva forgot that they were still standing in the middle of heavy rainfall. "You're soaking," Tony finally let out after the distraction of her distinct features.

"Impressive," she mocked before wiping away the running mascara that was chasing its way down her left cheek. "Have you considered a career in investigation?"

He let out a laugh, fighting the decision on whether or not to remove his fingers from her knotted hair that once framed her face in a most unappealing of ways. "I actually..." His grin appeared wide and he was more amused than she knew at best. "I'm Tony," the Italian finally introduced himself. Now was a good time as any.

"Ziva," she responded. The water continued to drip down her face, escaping and dropping in small droplets from the edge of her chin.

Tony nodded, trying the name out on his own tongue. "Zee-vah," it sounded different when it left his mouth. She didn't understand quite what it was, but let it go. He was a stranger in the street and she'd never see him again. "That's…different." His mind wandered to the unholiest of places. A normal person would have considered how she was greeted by family and friends, the nicknames she would have accumulated over the years, or even where the name originated from. Tony, on the other hand, immediately imagined whispering her name against her skin if he ever got the chance. There was just something chilling in the way she looked at him, took all of him in.

"It is Israeli, actually." Ziva realized he hadn't asked and shifted somewhat uncomfortably at releasing unwarranted information. "I am sorry; I really should go." She offered a sympathetic smile, although not too sympathetic because it was pouring out and at this point she couldn't feel her fingers if she tried. "Laila tov," the words left her lips sweetly and she brushed her shoulder with his as she went.

"Buonanotte," he called after her. Ziva turned to look at him for a millisecond before disappearing down the street. The rain fell so hard, it was almost as if she was never there.

* * *

><p>The wet Israeli made it back into the same corridor she had left at some point earlier in the evening. Her fingers paled in comparison to the dark tan shade of her pants while she searched for her keys. Ziva settled their meals at thee foot of the doorway before digging the silver key into the lock with no luck of entry. Her hands pounded on the door a few times before she gave up and took the time to step back and get as much water out of her hair as possible.<p>

She was satisfied with the sound of footsteps nearing and leaned back over to gather the food she had sent herself out to retrieve. When she rose, however, her eyes settled on a face other than Malachi's. Ziva narrowed her eyes in confusion, her lips parting as she walked past the man to get inside. "Adam?"

He was scruffier than she last remembered. The pair had their share of run in's with each other since she started her work with Mossad. Though Adam Eshel was with Shin Bet – Israel's agency that focused on internal security, he was her most valued ally and contact. Nonprofessionally, Ziva was no stranger to turning to him in her many times of need. They grew up together – she in Tel Aviv and he just outside. They were friends, comrades, and the rest of their relationship was quite often undefined. They liked to leave it that way, though sometimes it proved to be a burden. "What are you doing here?" Ziva questioned.

She silently smiled when he pulled her into his arms for an embrace, an actual hello. "I do not fly around the world for just anyone," he let out into her hair. His leather jacket felt cool against her skin, but she welcomed his warm hands that snaked around her. She was cold, confused, but mostly defeated after their unfulfilled assignment.

"Thank you for coming," she tried but the words – out of fatigue – never came.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**

**I'm not sure entirely where I'm going with this. It's proving to be slightly difficult (or maybe I'm extremely hard on myself), but I wanted to do something different. I guess I took "The Israelis are back" to a whole new level. I just really liked Malachi and Adam - how can you not enjoy their complexities and relationship with Ziva? Both different, but both enticing. **

**We'll see how this goes. If anything, I want to try and work on some short one or two shots in addition to this challenging piece. I don't consider myself a fluff writer, but I want my Tiva babies back.**

**Anyway, please enjoy and let me know how you feel about this. Also feel free to talk to me about potential plot points. :)**

**Dina**


	2. Chapter 2

Ziva held onto him for longer than expected, given that she was rarely the affectionate type of woman. She was the one that got in and got out, pulled the trigger without a second thought, and took what she wanted with almost no effort on her part. She was a soldier; she was what her father trained her to be while all the other kids were outside playing in the beaming Israeli sun that warmed streets and people's hearts. "You are soaking wet," she finally heard Adam say when he pulled back to look at her. She fought the urge to roll her eyes and allowed her head to bob in agreement.

"I have already been informed." Ziva released her arms and brought them back to her sides. The cold of the rain finally set in and she eagerly removed the light jacket she was wearing from around her shoulders. Left in a dark buttoned down top, she moved to hang the piece around the back of one of the chairs. It would take all night to dry, if that.

Malachi made his way from the living room to finally join them in the small hallway by the door. "You made a friend?" His look of sheer surprise mocked her and she sent a tired glare his way. "So that is why it took you so long to get dinner. I did not expect you to be one to be distracted by an American." The Israeli rolled her tongue over her teeth before pushing the neatly packaged bag of take out into his hold. It turned out that she wasn't too hungry anymore – instead, she would rather have known what exactly Adam was doing there and how he knew where to show up in the first place.

"He was not a distraction. Merely…" No. "It does not matter," she decided. Too many questions for which she had no patience or energy to discuss. After all, what did it matter that she ran into someone in the middle of a storm on the street and he happened to be intriguing for once. She couldn't brush the feeling of how she felt when he brought his fingers up to tussle her hair just yet though. Perplexed, Ziva blinked a few times before deciding on her exit. "I need a hot shower," her brown eyes turned to Adam then. "Then we will discuss _why_ you are here."

Two pairs of eyes followed as she disappeared into her claimed bedroom. The sound of the shower water running quickly filled the apartment, leaving the two men to their own entertainment. Adam took a seat in a chair opposite the partner he had heard so many things about – both good and bad. Their silence maintained for a couple more minutes and Adam took the tense quiet to absently adjust his jacket and look around the apartment. "She always gets straight to the point," Malachi commented.

Though Adam was sure he meant that in more ways than one, he simply nodded in agreement with a quiet, dry laugh. He had been through a long flight and wasn't in the mood to play 'Ziva preference' with anyone. Let alone Malachi. "Please, do not let me keep you from dinner." Adam received a shake of the head from Malachi in return and an empty plate to fill with food. Despite their differences, their allegiance brought them together at the end of the day. The younger Israeli officer gladly accepted and they turned their attention to the food on the coffee table between them.

Ziva, on the other hand, took her time in the shower. It had been at least a week since they had a moment to themselves and she gladly relished in the opportunity to relax – even if it was to be quickly fleeting. Her body quickly warmed and she exhaled, her back against the wall, into the steam that had risen in the window-less bathroom. Only a few minutes after the water had been shut off, she appeared in a loosely fitted long sleeve shirt and a pair of sweatpants, a relatively rare and small but pleased smile on her face. Ziva took a seat on the floor between the men, eagerly reaching for her awaiting plate and filling it with everything in her sight. The smell of her shampoo radiated the room and Adam couldn't help but smile into his bite. He was glad that Ziva was not a woman of change – always the same shampoo, the same type of soap. The scent brought back some pleasant memories for him and he was silently grateful.

Much like many things in their profession, the happy moment was short lived. After getting a few bites in, Ziva got straight to the point in questioning Adam's arrival. "Why are you here, Adam?" She watched him take a few more bites before he answered, knowing that her patience was running thin.

"Director David thought you could use some help," it was the most direct answer he'd ever given.

The young Israeli eyed him suspiciously while her teeth worked on the warm food in her mouth. She'd have attacked him more aggressively if she were not exhausted from their continuous travel and fallen through plans. That, and being with Malachi day in and day out was no picnic. "He does not think I am competent enough," Ziva let out the statement, deciding it was not worth it to beg the question.

"Ziva," Malachi attempted to cut in but Adam took the lead. Malachi watched the other man raise his hand to stop him and retreated to his meal.

The scruffy man in front of her shifted his plate on the table off to his left and leaned in closer to her, his elbows settling on his knees while he chose his words wisely. He'd known Ziva for so long, he knew it best to plan his approach ahead of time. "You have been using Shin Bet as your intel source for some time now to get Eschel. There have been a few dead ends, so…" He watched her face harden in front of him. She was ready to bite back. "There is nothing wrong with an extra pair of hands."

Ziva cleared her plate while his reasoning tossed around in her head. She weighed her options while filling her plate with a second portion, her stomach still feeling extremely empty. American food was not as fulfilling as she would have dreamed. She missed the fresh out of the oven pita bread and the hummus that always accompanied it. The Israeli salad was already made just right too. With a swoosh of her eyelashes, she regrettably refocused. "My father has approved this?" She confirmed.

"I would not be here if he didn't."

Ziva tilted her head, "That is not true."

Adam sighed in defeat. "Alright. Maybe I would still be here even if I was not requested, but I was and I am." His dark eyes gave her an unwavering look and she could not do anything but admit defeat in the matter. Adam took her silence as claimed victory and reached over the couch for his bag to retrieve his laptop. Ziva and Malachi got a few more bites in while Officer Eshel set up his computer on the coffee table they had comfortably occupied for the evening. "Shin Bet has been tracking Eschel alongside Mossad the last few weeks. We know that he arrived in the United States a little over a week ago. It hasn't been long, but we are sure that he is occupying an old Mossad safe house in the city."

Ziva tugged the laptop over to herself. No questions asked, Adam gave up his territory and allowed her to have it. A sleep deprived ninja assassin, he did not want to deal with. Her fingers gently clicked through the surveillance photos that Adam and his team back in Shin Bet had managed to secure while her other hand forced the rest of the food on her plate into her mouth. She was nothing if she was not flexible. Her eyes narrowed at a few photos in particular, ones that showed Namir entering a small doorway – an apartment building, she presumed – with a few of his things. He did not have much, but it was clear that he was settling in for the time being. "That is an old Mossad safe house that I set up for Ari long ago," Ziva commented. "We have not used it for quite some time. It is risky…" Her thought trailed. "He does not seem worried that we will just show up to put an end to what he has started."

Malachi stood to clear the empty take out boxes and the bags they came in while his partner studied the photos in front of her. "You cannot possibly know that," he retorted.

"I was his partner for almost two years. I believe I know him well enough," Ziva bit back with clear annoyance for the fact that he was undermining her.

He scoffed in return. "And yet, here we are now," Malachi raised his eyebrows at her in an equally forceful way. Ziva met his comment by pushing her plate back and bringing herself to her feet. She had no problem standing up to him for his backhanded comments about a partnership he knew very little about. Ziva met him chest to chest, her arms crossed in front of her and her chin tilted up to look him in the eye. Height might have been the only thing he had over her, and even that wasn't going to be enough.

Her lips parted to take a verbal stab at him, but the third officer's hold tried to quickly bring her back to reality. He didn't hurt her, but the pull was forceful enough to allow a few more inches between the two Mossad officers in front of him. "Ziva," he whispered in hopes that she'd shift her attention. Her eyes, however, remained trained on her partner. Her lips closed again and settled in a straight line that offered no ease. "I think it is best we all get some sleep before someone gets hurt." She waited a half-minute before settling with Adam's offer.

A sigh of relief came from both men when Ziva turned her back to head down the short hallway into her quarters. The door closed behind her after a faint utter of 'laila tov' came from her lips. Malachi chuckled quietly under his breath, interested in how easy it was for Adam to handle Ziva under heated circumstances. After pondering over the idea, his eyes met the Shin Bet Officer's in question. "So, you and Ziva…" He gestured with his hands, trying to get the point across.

"Good night, Officer Ben-Gidon." Choosing wisely, Adam turned to the coat closet to retrieve extra bedding for the couch.

* * *

><p>Naturally, Ziva's eyes opened precisely at 0530 the following morning. She relaxed into her messy bed hair for a few minutes before convincing herself to go for her usual run. It did not matter what county or city she was in, it was a routine that she had perfected throughout her career and eventually could not go on without after much repetition over the years. After a few minutes of morning hygiene, Ziva pulled her designated clothes and running shoes from one of her bags for the morning ahead. Her curls fell over her eyes as she leaned down to capture the white laces of her sneakers and tie them tightly. Satisfied, a hidden smile appeared on her face. Her features continued to brighten when she settled a tan colored beany atop her dark hair and proceeded toward the living room.<p>

She made her way through the small living space to find Adam resting comfortably against the cushions of the couch. Her eyes took in his sleeping state for a moment before remembering to grab her keys off of the table. The small rattling caused his eyes to flutter open and look over at her while she was trying to her best to take the quietest of exits. Ziva's eyes found his as she fully grasped the keys and stuffed them into a side pocket. Adam broke contact to glance at the time, realizing she was ready to go for her run. Instinctively, he shot up to accompany her but was stopped. She came around to the edge of the couch, her knee keeping him from standing up. "Stay. I will be fine."

Their eyes fought silently, him wanting to keep her safe and Ziva standing her ground to retain her independence. When he gave up, Adam pushed himself back into the cushions and let out a sigh. Defeat so early in the morning. She always knew how to kick a man when he's down. Her eyes brighten due to her victory and she didn't fully think when she leaned over him and brushed her fingers against the stubble on his face. "Don't shave," a soft demand left her lips. Without waiting for a response, she pulls back instinctively and escaped into the hallway as the door neared a close behind her.

* * *

><p>The rain from the night before dried up on the streets quickly, showing only faint patterns on the asphalt. Ziva's eyes studied them briefly before she chose a random direction to run into – one that had the least amount of people trampling toward. Her nostrils embraced the fresh air and she felt as though she could run forever – forget all of the pressure that was weighing on her shoulders and finally have a morning when nothing mattered. What a dream for someone who'd given their life for the sake of her homeland since her early teenage years. Sometimes – rarely –, she silently questioned when enough was enough. There was never an answer that would suffice.<p>

Consumed in though, Ziva's pace brought her to Potomac Park. The trails were abandoned for such an early hour, the trees wearing ever-changing leaves on their branches that were ready to fall anytime now. The trail alongside the reflecting pool led her to the steps up to the Lincoln Monument. Ziva jogged up the staircase and came to rest against one of the columns that surrounded the indoor statue. Her chest rose and fell while her eyes studied the beautiful statue before her. It was a pleasant surprise to stumble upon when she hadn't planned on any sight seeing. Her head turned to look over her shoulder and feast over the glistening water of the reflecting pool that inevitably led to the Washington Monument. She came to quickly appreciate the things around her – moments she took for granted on any day other than today.

Once her heart settled to a slower pace, Ziva pushed off the supporting column and made her way down in a light jog toward the reflecting pool that separated the paths of the park. To the right of her, a group of eight relatively young men were engaged in a serious game of football. Tony and his fraternity buddies had a weekly ritual of meeting up very early in the morning for a game of football. They always regretted it once their alarms woke them at an absurd hour, but they were relentless and all showed up every Saturday. Some were more bitter than others, Tony included. The Israeli noted how early they were out and their half asleep demeanor as they tried to one-up the other team. Numerous cups of coffee from a nearby Starbucks were settled alongside the path beside the grass field that they used for their battleground.

American football – she never understood it, or cared to try. Taking her last few steps off the stairs, her bouncing curls caught the attention of one of the men. The football flew past his shoulder as he eyed the foreign beauty who decided to take a quick break to stretch her legs out. "Hey!" Tony yelled in frustration toward his fraternity brother. "Are you serious? I can't believe you missed that pass, Chris." He threw his hands up in the air dramatically as he jogged over to him. He pushed him back against the shoulders lightly without receiving much of a physical response.

"Sorry, man." Chris nodded his head toward his distraction. "That was worth losing, wasn't it?" He offered and hoped that the Italian he'd finished his undergraduate education with would agree. He usually did. Tony's eyes followed Chris' to a familiar face and he thought quickly to jump on the opportunity to see the mysterious woman from the night before again.

He grabbed a water bottle before moving away from the group. "Huh," he let out a genuine DiNozzo expression. "I'll be right back." Tony left Chris with a pat on the shoulder, though it left the rest of the men confused. They couldn't help not being annoyed – instances like this happened so often that the rest of them were surprised Tony wasn't the one who sniffed her out initially. The Italian bred agent usually had a special sense about these things when it came to attractive women in any proximity.

Tony made his way toward her in a matter of minutes. His fingers reached for her shoulder without a second thought, as it was a fairly normal gesture. Tony's fingertips barely grazed the material of her shirt before Ziva swiftly turned to capture his arm away and behind his back. His pained squeal confirmed that the pressure she had put on him was just enough before her eyes settled on his face. "Funny…" Tony breathed, "…running into you here." A second squeal came before the Israeli thought to release him.

"Hello, Tony." Her hands came back to settle at her sides as she watched the stranger from last night straighten in front of her. Her eyes provided a glint of sympathy as he rubbed his back with one of his hands, still confused at their entire interaction. He was not caffeinated enough for this. The hundreds of questions he'd otherwise ask failed to formulate on his tongue so he just extended the cold water bottle to her. Ziva accepted graciously, not sparing a moment to break the seal and expose the liquid to her dry throat.

The happiness flashed on his face. "Wow, I must have made quite an impression last night for you to remember my name," he pressed proudly.

"Well," Ziva studied him. "I did run you through last night," she finished with a shrug of the shoulder.

Shifting his head to the side, he nodded. "I think you mean, you ran me _over." _Once the stinging pain seemed to leave his body, he found his usual classic DiNozzo humor once again and didn't waste a single minute. "You always greet your friends like Uma Thurman in "Kill Bill"?

Ziva's eyes narrowed into a thin line, confused. "Like who in what?"

Tony shook his head in response, remembering just how foreign she was. "You know, like Uma Thurman - the badass ex-assassin who goes after her former colleagues who killed her wedding party and tried to kill her?" In receipt of further confusion, he retreated to basic terms. "Crazy ninja skills."

"I have never had a wedding party," Ziva reasoned as a strong gust of wind blew past them. It was strong enough to blow the ends of her curls back and force her eyes closed for a moment, exposing the true length of her natural eyelashes to the man before her. She heard him laugh and settled her eyes again once the wind had passed to find him smiling at her with much intrigue.

"Right. We'll work on that," he settled with a short nod mostly to himself. Though he was confused at her lack of ability to recognize film references, he found the challenge inviting. "You know, I have a huge movie collection back at my apartment and you know what they say about guys with a great collection…"

At that, Ziva finally allowed a smirk to cross her features. Any other moment, she would have found his attempt disgusting so it must have been her lack of sleep that left her feeling slightly amused by his gesture. She ran her tongue over her teeth before responding, her fingers closing the cap of the bottle she had been gifted with. "We have similar analogies in Israel," she assured. Their eyes remained trained on each other from then on – the both of them finding a lack of necessity for words. Her brown eyes poured into his so deeply that she almost failed to feel her cell phone vibrating in her pocket – something that quickly shattered their engaging moment.

"So, what do you say?" Tony tried, digging his hands into his pockets. His face was hopeful, taking in the exotic features of her face that he failed to see in the rain the night before.

Ziva broke eye contact to glance at the numerous missed calls and text messages that were awaiting her reply. "I…" She read through the numerous messages from both Malachi and Adam. "I cannot." She watched his face fall slightly but then regain his usual dose of confidence. "But I do run every morning if you would like to join me," she offered in attempt to make up for shutting down his presumptuous suggestions.

"Yeah. Yeah, that sounds great." DiNozzo eagerly agreed before she had a chance to take back her offer. "How do you take your coffee?"

"Latté," Ziva shared before stuffing her phone back into her pant pocket. "See you at 0545." She tapped her half finished water bottle against his arm in thanks as she returned to a light jog pace to get past him in the direction of her apartment. Tony turned to watch her inch away down one of the park paths at a steady pace. His hazel eyes feasted over how lightly her curls bounced with every step before he made his way back to the boys wearing a triumphant smile.

* * *

><p>Though she decided against responding to the continuous incoming messages coming in, Ziva surely took note of every single one. After several minutes of sensation in her pocket, she dragged the device out to silence it as she continued on her way back. It seemed a shorter jog on the way back as it often did with many other things – a stroll back, an airplane ride, or a drive back from wherever she'd been sent to attend to things.<p>

Her worn sneakers brought her safely to the building they had been occupying for the night. Ziva slowly made it up the stairs, eyeing both right and left before opening the front gate to head inside and down the corridor. Their apartment was the fourth to the left. Her keys jingled between her fingers once she finally settled in front of their door, but there was no need for them. The door quickly swung open to reveal two irritated faces focused in her direction. Her eyebrows slightly raised at their cold demeanor before she silently slipped inside past them.

It was not the first time Ziva had seen the look Malachi wore on his face, but she was not expecting Adam's. The younger officer's expression practically matched Ben Gidon's and it made her slightly unease, a feeling she internally battled to understand. "We have been trying to reach you," Ziva heard them say once she turned her back to drop her chain of keys onto the table. An involuntary roll of the eyes followed in turn from her, an action luckily out of their view.

"I went for a run. I told Adam that I would be fine," she responded with a quick glance over her shoulder. They were not her parents or even her brothers to say the least. Ziva had to admit she was perplexed about their – as it seemed – irrational reactions to her deciding to journey off on her own for just over an hour in the city. "Has something happened?" The younger Israeli asked then; it had finally hit her that their irritation meant there was an update or two.

"We thought you needed to see the new surveillance." Adam took a seat in front of his computer. Beside him, Ziva took her cue to settle on the cushions and wait for him to bring up the new intelligence they had blown her cell phone over. Her jaw clicked back and forth absent mindedly as she waited, her eyes watching his fingers click necessary keys with a single blink.

Once Adam found the correct file, Ziva's eyes studied the short but fresh video that they had managed to catch. It showed Namir Eschel leaving the abandoned Mossad safe house early in the morning. His things remained inside, proving to her that he did not seem to be in a rush. His features – or what she saw of them – were relaxed. He was not worried. "What are we still doing here?" She questioned seriously. "We do not know where he was going, but I am sure that he will or has already been back. It is our best opportunity to take him down, Adam." She glanced from Eshel's disapproving look to Malachi's. "You do not agree?"

"I do not think that is best, Ziva." Ziva narrowed her eyes in retaliation, finally removing the hat that kept her ears under toasty warmth. She settled it in her lap, her fingers playing with the knitted pattern in contemplation of their disagreement.

"You…do not think that is best," she repeated. Silence followed for a good minute.

Adam leaned back, though his eyes failed to fall from hers. "I think it is what he expects us to do. We need to find out what he is doing with the intelligence, who the highest bidder is. We need to make sure that Israel's national security is not compromised."

Ziva's face expressed anything but understanding. "Is that why you are here?" She let out a frustrated sigh before proceeding with her attack. "To undermine me, to handle me? Is that why my father sent you?" Her scolding face immediately turned sour as the realization of her father's intentions set in. Throughout their entire time on this mission, she had forced herself to not consider that she was not good enough to produce a successful result. Ziva carried the weight of the mission – of the world – on her shoulders as best she could but the truth finally caught up with her, just as she knew it would.

Adam ran a hand over his face, trying to find a way to respond to her. It was a delicate situation and he didn't want to go about it in the worst way possible. Any way but the right way would give him even worse circumstances to deal with on top of having to find Namir Eschel and stop him from selling confidential Israeli intelligence. Ziva forced her eyes away from him before a quiet huff escaped from somewhere deep in her throat. She was frustrated, it was clear. But those negative feelings that had begun to make her skin tingle were abruptly cut off with a tone of an incoming call. "Give me some room," Ziva ordered before nodding toward Malachi. She knew he'd understand to go ahead and attempt to trace the incoming call.

"Shalom, Namir." Ziva balanced her cellular device between her cheek and shoulder. Her eyes remained glued on Malachi, whose fingers were strained at work to produce a location that could potentially be their next lead.

The slightly older man on the other line snickered coldly into her ear. "I must congratulate you on your tracking abilities, Ziva."

Ziva pursed her lips as she listened, her fingers still picking at the knit hat in her lap. "You should see what I manage with a weapon."

"Perhaps the time will come," he mused. "I trained you well when you were just starting out. You were so innocent, so…naïve." Ziva refrained from releasing a growl; it was only natural for her to react to anyone who found it fitting to belittle her and her abilities.

"I will find you, Namir. Ani mavtichah." _I promise. _Before she could make another threat, the line went dead. Ziva glanced at her phone screen for confirmation of the dropped call and quickly looked to Malachi for, hopefully, good news.

"It was not enough," he sighed. He sat back to stare back at his computer screen; it was not enough.

Ziva kept from pushing him down further. She threw the hat that had been occupying her lap into the couch cushions aggressively before taking a steady hold of Adam's laptop and moving toward her bedroom. Her foot kicked the door behind her slightly, not closing completely due to the lack of velocity. Ignoring the failure, the Israeli warrior settled on her bed to study the new and old surveillance that Adam had provided them.

She could feel another body in the room within minutes. Not hearing a sarcastic comment, she deduced that it was Adam that had come to save her from her self-blame. Ziva hunched over the computer in a cross-legged form on the made bed, both elbows supported by her knees and one fist enclosed by the palm of her left hand. She felt him near her and decided it was a good a time as any. Brushing a stray curl back, her voice cracked aloud. "I am responsible for all of this," her voice remained hushed but Adam could still hear her. "It is I who is always responsible," she reiterated more for herself than for him.

The Shin Bet officer studied the girl he knew well, deciding to set the Mossad operative in her aside. He made the brave decision to settle behind her on the mattress, his strong grasp landing on her right shoulder for a sense of support. "You know how serious this is," he began. "I promise your father only sent me because this is an issue of national security for the state of Israel, Ziva."

Her neck allowed a half turn, exposing her half of her features to him. "Do not make promises you cannot keep, Adam." It was a cold as any remark she had ever sent his way. "You are here because my weaknesses outshine my strengths. Because I am not enough. Tali…" Ziva trailed off, immediately saddened. She kept from speaking of her often, but it felt fitting – it felt right. "Tali was always the best of us," her voice came through as a barely audible whisper.

Adam leaned over her shoulder to shut his laptop shut. She did not fight it and took the opportunity to twist her body into a more open position in front of him. "You have always been more than enough, Ziva." Her eyes immediately brightened when the sincere compliment left his lips. It had been hard for her the last few months to find genuine reassurance in herself, in what had been happening, and in the future that was in her hands to help write.

"That is only because I am too much to handle," she returned honestly.

Ziva watched as an almost unnoticeable smirk played on his face. "Don't I know it." The two glanced at each other uncomfortably then, remembering why exactly their partnership had always worked better at a distance. Ziva always found it best both personally and professionally that they maintain a certain type of relationship that didn't involve anything of the sort that was happening now. She cleared her throat and ran her hand through her curls in hopes of distraction. This was not the time. She promised herself long ago that their time had already passed.

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><p><strong>AN:**

**It has been too long. I lost my muse for a while, but I hope this suffices! I know a few of you have been waiting for an update and I hope I met your high standards for an update. :) By the way, despite the Ziva/Adam things going on - I am a Tiva shipper and my heart cannot allow this to be anything but a Tiva fic. **

**Please enjoy and I look forward to hearing your thoughts on this latest addition to "Unexpected Alliance". **

**Dina**


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